


wandering next to you

by dotdotmoon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Character, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotdotmoon/pseuds/dotdotmoon
Summary: Kyungsoo asks in the wrong way, and Jongdae's patience runs thin.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	wandering next to you

**Author's Note:**

> all of my fics are personal but this one is like. super personal ;;;; so jongdae's like… my brand of aromantic with a heavy touch of alexityhmia. feelings hard but you're level 1 and the feelings are level 99!!
> 
> jongdae is also a sensitive little volcano here, please forgive me for that.

"Yeah, okay," Jongdae agrees, easily.

Kyungsoo's expression however doesn't change, his nervousness doesn't fade, and Jongdae feels it soaking into his own face like wet, heavy paint.

"That's all?" Kyungsoo asks.

The beast of tension sitting in his stomach all evening seems to spike, to twist and turn, and he feels something rising to the surface, vast, laced with a sense of betrayal. Kyungsoo knows. Kyungsoo, who's folding his used paper napkin into a small perfect square now, should know better.

"What more do you want?" Jongdae asks, bites almost, at a loss, and he wants this one answer, wants to know. "Going to judge me for the way I'm wired?"

Kyungsoo worries at his lower lip, and for once, Jongdae doesn't have the urge to reach out, feels like he doesn't have to fix this. It's not his responsibility, he thinks, it's not on him to pretend for someone else's comfort, even if it's expected of him. He stirs the ice cube leftovers melting into his drink, stirs up a small storm in the glass as he waits.

"No," Kyungsoo says slowly, after a moment so long Jongdae wants to ready himself for the ruin of it all. "It's—you don't sound very enthusiastic, that's all."

Jongdae doesn't want to laugh but it bubbles out of him, a sharp, broken sound, barely a relief.

"I'm so excited," he says when he can speak again, despising its taste in his mouth, batting his eyelashes at Kyungsoo's frown and bringing his hands up to cup his own face, wiggling his fingers. He laughs again at how hollow it sounds and feels, how dripping with bitterness, although it's a neighbouring truth to his own. Although he wants this, too, wants to be enough for Kyungsoo.

Until just a few years back, Jongdae wielded, moulded himself into what his partners needed him to be, only to learn that still he wasn't enough. Now, he's shed that skin, the camouflage. Now, he's been swallowed up by worry, from the second on Kyungsoo asked.

Their eyes meet briefly, and it dries up his laughter, Kyungsoo's bare worry looking back at his, his eyes deep with it. Jongdae holds on to it as he studies the bowl sitting emptied before him, the maybe in it all, the collection of empty side dishes, traces of a dinner so tense he cannot recall how he's managed to eat any of it. If he worries—maybe Kyungsoo knows better. He takes a breath, shallow, another few to dilute the involuntary apology sitting on his tongue.

Briefly, he wonders if too much changed between them already. If Kyungsoo shouldn't have asked. If they could go back, to being in each other's space with a friendly, cosy distance between them, thick and dark enough for Jongdae to bury his _what ifs_ in it, for them to grow towards Kyungsoo's light, but never breaking through. It was easier, comfortable to dream about kissing Kyungsoo, unaware of the _what ifs_ Kyungsoo must have been growing himself, unaware of their sprouts reaching for one another. It was more than enough before. It can be more than enough again.

"Jongdae." It's Kyungsoo who reaches out, just as cautiously as he said his name, pushing a strand of hair out of Jongdae's eyes, sighing when it falls back into place immediately, a small, defeated sound. The action is barely anything, but Jongdae thinks he'd spill over if they touched now, like a pot of soup kept on heat too high, splashing anyone too close with scalding heat.

He doesn't want to guess what Kyungsoo wants to hear, doesn't want to match his words to an expectation, wants to speak his mind, even if it's riddles and knotted yarn to everyone else. Jongdae wants this more than any kiss, any boyfriend in the world—even if it was Kyungsoo.

"Jongdae?" Kyungsoo says again, with unfamiliar urgency, like he's trying to reach for Jongdae with words alone, and this time, Jongdae lets go of his straw, leaves it to the storm in his glass pushing it up and around, lifts his gaze. _Jongdae, talk to me,_ he hears in the way Kyungsoo rushes out his name again, as he's heard him say a lot, _don't push it all down. Tell someone. Tell me._ For a moment, there's shame creeping up his throat, rich and sticky, for not trusting him enough, but he refuses to apologise, not even more time, not even to Kyungsoo.

"I'm not—it's not that important. Not to me," Jongdae tries, willing the explanations away, only leaving the bare bones, simple and true. "It scares me that it might be to you. That you're not—that you'll think I didn't care, or not care enough."

Kyungsoo nods like he understands, and maybe he does. Maybe, maybe, maybe. "I'm also scared," he says. "Change is scary, yeah?"

"That’s the thing. It doesn't change anything for me." Jongdae sighs, picks up his glass to shake it back and forth, watching the small wave tip up against the brim, forth and back. "Maybe it does for you. Maybe you can, but I—I can't love you more, or better than I already do."

It's strange, Jongdae thinks, to see Kyungsoo ducking his head like he could escape the words, like Jongdae hadn't told him before. Strange to see him straightening up a moment later, like he remembered a new resolve.

"I've been thinking about it. What you told me," Kyungsoo says, rubbing the square of his napkin against the table, not looking at it. Jongdae doesn't follow where his gaze is straying, instead follows the line of his lips as he speaks, the line of his shoulders against the back of the booth. "I've been thinking about us. And this, asking you. . . it's not the first time I wanted to. Minseok's waiting for my call. He was sure you'd turn me down, or that I'd decide not to tell you after all."

A chuckle spills out of him like it's been waiting to fit itself between them, whether as a piece of a wall or a bridge, Jongdae doesn't know.

"I've been confessed to before," Jongdae points out. "I've dated before." He feels dizzy with knowing the attention of others on them, takes a long sip of his drink to wash it off, looks over at Kyungsoo as he sucks watery lemonade through the straw.

"Yeah, but not me," Kyungsoo says with a small smile before he looks up, too. "Jongdae. . . I want you in my life either way. As a friend or a boyfriend. I don't want you to—to only say yes because you feel like you'd lose me otherwise. That's not—not what I want."

The napkin square wanders into his bowl where it tries to unfold again, and Kyungsoo tucks his hands under the table. He's waiting, Jongdae realises, but not as nervous anymore, steadier, more grounded now, like he's aware his words steadied and grounded Jongdae, too. It everything Jongdae needed to hear,

"Ah, why couldn't you have said that right away?" he complains, feels a smile rising to his face when Kyungsoo gives him an expectant look, still waiting. "I already gave you my answer. Do I have to release a formal statement now? Sign a premarital contract?"

"Don't make it worse," Kyungsoo says, but he breaks out into a smile, his eyes soft behind his glasses, and his leg trying to escape Jongdae's under the table. "So. . . boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends," Jongdae confirms, only satisfied when Kyungsoo lets him pull his leg between his, lets him trap his foot between crossed ankles.

•

"This was the worst dinner I ever had to pay for," Jongdae says after they've stepped out of the restaurant, tugging on their masks against the fine dust.

"Yeah," Kyungsoo agrees. "They could have served us wet seasoned napkins and I wouldn't have noticed."

"It's your fault," Jongdae tells him. "Never confess to me again."

"I won't," Kyungsoo says, his face so serious, like he'll turn into a stone anytime soon, for Jongdae to keep cosy and safe in his pocket.

"You should come home with me," Jongdae says and steps on the still smoking cigarette butt crossing his path as they walk towards the subway station, "to make up for it."

"And let you make me hot chocolate, wrap me up in a blanket on your couch and keep me there until the early morning?"

"Don't make fun of my love languages," Jongdae says. "I got an electric blanket, you'll love it."

"I'm sure I will," Kyungsoo says, and he reaches for Jongdae to link their arms.

Jongdae doesn't need to see his mouth to know he's smiling, one of the small smiles, as bright and warm as Kyungsoo himself.

**Author's Note:**

> oof.
> 
> thank you for reading, please let me know how it made you feel!!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dotdotmoon) | [listography](https://listography.com/dotdotmoon) (up-to-date wip list)


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